Me, Myself, and this blog

Aaron

I woke an hour ago to the news that Aaron Swartz killed himself. From my vantage point it seems like the entire internet is mourning him. It only takes reading a a few posts by people who loved him to understand why. Not why he did it, but why there are Alderaan levels of horror and sadness being felt that he did. An entire world crying out in pain.

I didn’t know Aaron personally, I knew of him of course – he was a very cherished person to many people I cherish. When I’d read his name, like many others out there in similar circles, I’d often think how weird it was that I hadn’t met him yet and wondered when I finally would. I so frequently meet people that I’ve known about for years, or who I’ve interacted with online but never met in person that it’s not even noteworthy anymore. I just expect that anytime a friend talks about someone that I’ll someday be hanging out with them. To the point that it’s almost a game. What will be the circumstances when I’ll meet them? Where in the world will it happen? Who will do the introduction?

I’ll never have the chance to meet Aaron now, and I’m saddened by that.

Knowing what I do about him and what he accomplished in his relatively short life, and reading the words my friends are writing about their friend – we all lost one of the good ones today. And regardless of if anyone knew him personally, we’re all worse off without him. It’s so terribly unfortunate that he felt this was his only escape.

I’ve written about my own experiences with depression and suicide in the past. I likely will again in the future. Today, I don’t know what to say. Except this sucks.

Shadowboxing

I just wrote the stupidest blog post in the history of text being transmitted across the internet. Seriously it was a nightmare of epic wtfness. What’s worse is that I wrestled with it for hours. Hours! I was thinking about it while walking around yesterday and started typing it up last night and then hit a wall and thought I’d go to sleep and clarity would hit me and then I could polish it off and post it in the morning. I woke up still stumped but I forced my way through and turned it into something that at least had some kind of clear start and finish then then I went to have breakfast and came back to reread it and wanted to punch me in my own damn face for wasting a second it it. Or at least on the approach I was taking. Delete!

Because I know I’ve piqued interest now and I don’t want to leave anyone flustered wondering if what I’d written was dramatic, or somehow impacted them, or what I’m hiding I assure you it was none of the above. It wasn’t a big tell all or anything scandalous. The post was about how isolating being in Japan can be, but in a good way. Good for me anyway, I can certainly see how what I feel when I’m here could be interpreted as loneliness to some people and it might bother them, but I really enjoy it. I talked about how not understanding the chatter around me, being ignored by marketers, having only the most basic of conversations with employees at establishments etc means that there are almost no distractions inside my head, the only conversation is the one I’m having with myself all day long. It allows for some fantastic focus and clarity.

And at the same time because I do have a network here, people and place I know and enjoy visiting it’s almost like my own personal secret society. There was much more to this and I rambled on with a bunch of useless references and then I realized how masturbatory the whole thing was and that’s when I killed it.

Trust me, it’s much better for both of us this way.

GSD

I’ve been semi-consciously avoiding linking to Shane – who is a super awesome guy that I’m lucky to call a friend, who also recently got back on the blog wagon – only because I didn’t want go full bore into the “conversational” blogging just yet, where one blog post is just a reply to another. Which has it’s merits of course, but I wanted to get this in motion a bit on it’s own first. That said, I just landed in Tokyo after a day of delayed and the blog post I began to write was just a bitch fest about the people who sat next to me on the plane, which no one wants to read.

Shane posted today asking how people get things done and noting that is own MO has been less than satisfying. I’ve been thinking about this a lot for a while actually so I thought I’d run with it, which is probably more interesting than the “omg dude won’t give me any of the armrest!!” that I running towards.

#3 on Shane’s list is “Tell someone idea before it’s fully hashed out” which is an interesting bit here. I’ve heard the philosophy that you should never tell anyone about your projects until they are finished, because the mental reward of someone saying “oh yeah, that sounds great!!” is often enough to reduce your desire to finish it. It’s fulfilling in the same way on a neural level so it’s kind of like picking up a snack on the way to dinner, when you get to dinner you are less motivated to eat it. Or something.

I’m sure that is the case for some people. Did I just type that? How many people are there on this planet? Whatever case you can think of certainly applies to some of them. I’m such an idiot. Anyway, what I was saying is that I don’t think there is a universal policy here. For myself, I know very well that I’m really good at starting things and really bad at finishing them. I’m pitifully reliant on motivation from outside feedback. The exciting spark and first steps draws me in and I can go full bore on something like crazy, but, and especially on projects I’m working on with other people, if I feel like the overall enthusiasm is waning, or people aren’t that interested, then it’s really easy for me to get distracted by something shiny.

So for me, telling people about the things I’m working on is kind of paramount. Some people are great at going “into the garage for a month” and then coming out with an awesome thing they’ve created. Not me. I need to keep showing the progress to people and keep getting assurance that it’s worth my effort to keep working on it. I think that’s part of why I stopped blogging on a regular basis before – I just didn’t get the sense that anyone was listening so why should I keep talking?

I don’t want this to sound like an entirely negative trait, I think getting feedback is crucial and can help you see which direction to take things and can help you decide where to focus your efforts. I have shitloads of unfinished projects, but they are mostly projects that I’ve either never told anyone about. The stuff I put out into public as a much higher completion rate than the stuff I keep hidden. Not all of it of course. How long have I been talking about writing a book, or several books for that matter? How many of my books do you have on your bookshelf? Right. But generally.

I also noticed when I was digging around in my head over the last year that at some point in my life my approach shifted. When I was young I’d have an idea and I’d work on it and then I’d release it and then I’d run with it. It was exciting and it kind of made me me, if that makes sense. Around college I started “partnering” with people. I figured two brains were better than one. Double the efforts, double the rewards, and stuff. There’s a very clear point in my life where until then all my efforts were solo, and then after that everything was with other people. I don’t know if I lost confidence in my own ability to deliver, or if I thought I needed others to justify it… I don’t know. Not that there is anything wrong with that. I’m super proud of many of the collaborations I’ve been a part of. But it’s different. I’d like to do something on my own again – maybe this year – if I can remember how. And if I can stay motivated.

2012: The year in review, in photos

If you’ve been reading my blog for a while you know the drill, 6 years ago I did a post looking back over my previous year by looking through the photos I took and posted online. My thought being, if I’d posted it online it was important enough to remember – so I restricted it to that as opposed to crawling through personal libraries as well. It was cathartic to say the least, so I’ve done it every year since then. (Feel free to take a stroll through my visual time machine… 2007 & 2008 & 2009 & 2010 & 2011). I find it to be kind of wild looking back at a full year in one shot like this, so here we go for 2012….

The first thing I noticed as I began this is that I posted considerably fewer photos to flickr at the beginning of the year than I had previously. I think I was going through some question about the future of the service – I’ve been a long time user but Yahoo! had all but abandoned it and over the years my friends had slowly dropped off as well. That changed by the end of the year with returned enthusiasm from both my friends and Yahoo! but for a good chunk of 2012 I was trying out lots of other photo sharing / storage options and trying to find something that fit. Disappointingly, I don’t even remember everything I tried and thus whatever I might have posted has drifted away to forgotten land. Which is a bummer, and makes me again realize how important flickr has been for me and why I keep using it.

At the same time, I started shooting a lot of photos on film rather than digital, which when you add in developing and scanning times and my own habits of waiting until I had 10 or so rolls to make a trip the lab, means something that happened in January might not have been documented online with my photos until April. It seems like even some digital stuff I shot didn’t end up on line until months later for some reason. Every year that I’ve done this I’ve searched through my archive using the “posted on” date, but this year “taken on” became much more important. But even that is confusing.

Connections

Sometime in summer, 1991 I guess? I was hanging out at Rob Sexton’s house in Tampa. He’d offered to teach me how to silk screen t-shirts and we’d ended up talking about records. He pulled out a box of I don’t even know what anymore, a stack of 7″s he’d traded for an equal stack of the recently released Slap Of Reality 7″. This was how you sold records then, you’d press 300 and then trade 10-15 at a time to other people for records they released and soon you’d have a mini record store, a distro that you could take around and see off one by one. The records weren’t important, the story was. Rob told me how pissed he was at the guy who sent him the records because he’d shipped the records in a box but hadn’t included any kind of note. In punk rock / hardcore at the time, this was an unparalleled dick move. Who sends an order and doesn’t include a note? That wasn’t punk at all.

It’s funny what sticks with you, but Rob’s reaction that day definitely did and a few years later when I started my own label (Toybox Records, which I shut down around ’97 I think? ’98 maybe.) I took that to heart and went out of my way to include a note, no matter how short – just something personal, in every order I shipped out. It was important. This personal connection we all had with everyone else in the scene, even people we’d never met. There was this thing that tied us all together and we knew it, and a little note in an order, a “thanks, hope you like it” or whatever made all the difference in the world.

This was a long time ago. I communicated with people online via BBS’s and #irc and wouldn’t have my first email address for another 2 or 3 years when I moved to Gainesville and took over my roommate Anatol’s email account because he couldn’t imagine ever having a need for it himself. Anyway, point is back then we wrote real letters to people and when you ordered something getting a note in the package said “you aren’t just a customer, this isn’t just business” and we all knew it.

Beards

photo

Fucking beards.

I hate that I even have to think about this shit. When I shave I look like I’m 12 and when I don’t shave I look like a submission to homeless or hipster. Googling to try to find out how how I might trim it to give a different result is like a choose your own adventure story in reverse – no matter what question you start with and no matter what links you follow you eventually end up on beards.org which I’m convinced is just a front, a work safe thumbnail porn wankfest for bears. So there’s that. Which isn’t exactly helpful.

And the beard police are so agressive about keeping their numbers up – unless you have a beard and you’ve mentioned considering not having a beard in front of a certain type of bearded dude you can’t imagine the hate glares you get. Like you are letting everyone else down, or breaking your membership vows.

Look, I’ve got nothing against people with beards. I’ve just never been confortable with mine, yet have had one the vast majority of my adult life thanks to being too busy lazy to shave.

On top of that it’s another decision that I have to make but really don’t care about. I hate making decisions where I don’t care about the outcome at all. Can’t I just close my eyes and throw a dart? If only it was that easy.

And no matter what I do, inevitably I’ll run into someone who I haven’t seen in a little while who will start off the conversation with a comment about my face. Yeah, that’s not awkward or anything. Thanks for ensuring crippling self consciousness for the rest of our little chat.

To make this even more fun, thanks to the stupid TSA thinking anyone with a boarding pass is a terrorist I can’t travel with a razor or scissors or anything so I have to build in assumptions of weeks on end with no modifications at all. Totally sucks.